The tortoises were basking in the hot sunshine on the lawn of our JM's abode,
when a select band of hashers carrying food and prizes disturbed their gentle
revelry.

With some on holiday and others feeling poorly the pack was reduced to the
Creme De La Creme of local hashing.

The aforementioned testudines made themselves scarce as soon as they heard
the bipedal carnivores making comments about fresh meat pies for the barbie.

Punctual as ever, our JM's kicked off with the usual lies and something about
goody bags at falsies before we issued forth on to the hot tarmac of Hulbert Road.
A quick trot south into Bidbury Mead to look for latecomers (of which there were
none) and then we started proper hashing across the recreation ground and then
north across Bedhampton Road to the green sward of the rugger pitches next
to the junior school, with The Ref working up a sweat in front.

Emerging to a check on Hook's Lane Keith found the true trail south down James
Road while Pancsi found a Goody Bag for his troubles, it was full of things
to suck and lick just like he likes.

Next it was a short inhalation of particulates east on New Road before heading
north alongside the crystal clear waters of the Hermitage stream on Hawthorn
Walk. Walking was now what most hashers were doing except nutters like Sinbad
as he took us across Barncroft Way over the footbridge and under the yellow
sewage pipe.

A good check in the scrubland beyond the pipe took us a while to fathom
during which Flash was able to suck and lick things from his very own bag.

Next we had an anticlockwise loop through the streets north of Purbrook Way
in the heart of Leigh Park delayed only while no one believed Snake Charmer's
observation of an arrow down Riders lane where we found a regroup under a nice
shady tree.

From the restart Old Faithful got way ahead down Stockheath Lane but came to
a full stop at Hermits Lea Park where a falsie from the outward trail had not
been rubbed out, don't mention this, I have but I think I got away with it.

Close to home now and hallucinating cold cider and hot meat we soon found the
way across the grass by St Thomas Moore's, on to Park Lane and back with the
tortoises after one hour and seven minutes of a tour round all the green
bits in Leigh Park.

The jumble of bags, bottles and bites that we had left in the garden had been
transformed into an organised affair of cold drinks here, food there, prizes
over there, barbecue in the corner, chairs under the gazebo etc, by those that
had remained behind, Olive Oyl, Pru, The Chamois, The Doc,
(Sorry if I missed someone).

All we had to do was crack open a can and be served sizzling meat from
the barbie by an even more sizzling Pru and Old Faithful wielding the
tongs and slowly melting away.

Oh! yes there was a raffle. And the Hash-It was given to Popeye but the
reason escapes me owing to amnesia induced by a cocktail of Stronbow
and Cabernet Sauvignon.

A big thank you to Olive Oyl and Popeye and everyone that helped make an
unforgettable day. (At least the bits that I remember).